


dunno who you think you are (before the night is through)

by GreyishBlue



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gay Chicken, M/M, Mandatory Fun Day, a little naughty, boys are bad at talking to eachother but good at touching, helpful mug being a good censor bar, inappropriate kitchen nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: Bucky wakes to the tempting smell of coffee drifting into his bedroom, and it takes him a full minute to panic because no one should be in his kitchen. What he finds there is a hell of a surprise..
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 33
Kudos: 136
Collections: Mandatory Fun Day, Winterhawk Bingo





	dunno who you think you are (before the night is through)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mandatory Fun Day and Winterhawk Bingo Square: Gay Chicken  
> Title from that song from True Blood

Bucky wakes to the tempting smell of coffee drifting into his bedroom, and it takes him a full minute to panic because no one should be in his kitchen. He scrambles into a pair of boxers with barely half of his old amount of skill.    
Nearly a year living in the Avengers compound has softened his edges, given him some of the time he needed to relax out of constant vigilance. He hadn’t been scared of a Hydra attack for a while now, the nightmares are calming down some as he replaces old memories with gentler, happier ones. So when he slides into the kitchen on only one sock, his hip hitting the counter is what brings him to a jarring stop. The string of cuss words he starts hissing cuts off abruptly when he gets a view of who’s waiting for him in his kitchen.

Bucky is still dreaming. He's gotta be. There's his kitchen counter. Coffee maker on, half filled. The compound's resident golden haired archer, wearing absolutely nothing, sitting sprawl legged on the counter. Morning sun is streaming through the windows, casting a golden glow across freckled and scarred skin. The only thing maintaining Clint’s dignity is a large coffee mug settled on the counter between his muscled thighs. The mug is patterned like the plates of Bucky’s arm, and that absurd detail convinces him this has to be reality. Sure, his brain has conjured Clint in a few states of undress both awake and dreaming, but this is too crisp, too solid, too fucking weird.

Clint meets his eyes for barely a flicker of blue, then looks back down, and it draws Bucky to look too. Clint’s long skilled fingers are slowly drawing across one knee, traveling up, dragging inward as he gets to his thighs. His thumb brushes almost behind the mug, and there’s an answering twitch in his abs, like he can’t quite help himself. His fingernails leave the most delicate red lines as they travel across the tensed muscles just above the damned mug.

Bucky is pretty sure he should say something, but he’s desperately afraid that saying the wrong thing might shatter this unreal moment. He doesn’t think he could stand it, this is just about the most beautiful thing he’s seen in the scattered moments of his life he can recall. So he watches Clint’s fingers trail higher, only vaguely aware of the warning creak of a chair he’s grasping far too hard with his left hand. 

It’s when Clint brushes his fingers across one peaked nipple and a soft sigh falls from his lips that Bucky realizes this has to be the last possible move in the weird game they’ve been playing. They’ve been dancing around one another in a series of escalating dares, selfies sent from dangerous locales in less clothing than they should, casual touches becoming less so until one or the other pulled away blushing or breathless.    
  
Clint is slowly moving one hand into his own hair, where he tugs at the short strands. His other hand is draped casually across a thigh, fingers toying with the edge of the mug. Bucky thinks, absurdly, that he really hopes that Clint is feeling as thirsty as he is right now. He can’t help the little bark of laughter that escapes him, hopes that it doesn’t sound as hysterical to Clint as it did to his own ears.

Clint’s eyes shoot back up, darkened with lust, a gorgeous flush creeping down from his cheeks to the miles of uncovered skin across his torso. Bucky only realizes he’s standing there quietly with a death grip on a chair when he sees the concern catching at the corners of Clint’s brows. It’s just enough to spur him to action, to make him realize what he’s got to say. Both of them are pretty bad at talking things out, but Bucky figures he can manage the important things at the moment. He lets go of the chair with a little  _ whirr-click _ of his arm and moves forward until he’s standing between Clint’s spread knees. 

“Mornin’, honey. You’re gorgeous,” He rests his hands carefully on Clint’s hipbones, pressing his thumbs to the thin skin there, “You should let me take you to bed, hm?” 

  
Clint, for all his antics, looks a little unsure at this moment, like he can’t quite believe it’s worked. Bucky moves that last bit closer, slow so Clint can stop him if he really wants to. He presses their lips together, just a soft thing, followed by another, gentle kisses trailing across Clint’s lips as he relaxes against Bucky. Clint manages ‘ _ yes _ ’ and ‘ _ please _ ’ between kisses, murmured into the small space between their mouths.    
  
It’s enough of an answer for Bucky right now. He carefully moves the mug out of their way, then he slides mismatched hands under Clint’s thighs and lifts him. He politely ignores the squeak Clint makes before wrapping those long limber legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky presses the smile he can’t quite hold back into Clint’s collarbone, follows it up with a gentle bite for fun. He carries Clint to his bed to show him everything he’d like to say.


End file.
